


Feel my words, hear my thoughts

by MyBakerstreetBoys



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Morse Code
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:00:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28428945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyBakerstreetBoys/pseuds/MyBakerstreetBoys
Summary: Sherlock desperately searches for a way to let out his feelings for the handsome doctor who happens to be his flatmate. Telling John about them is simply out of question but without the possibility to talk about them his secret is driving him mad and keeps him from thinking clearly. If John could just hear his thoughts, if he could just find a way to let him feel the words inside his head ...Then, one day, he finds the perfect solution: morse code.Unfortunately, John Watson was in the army and knows quite well how morse code works. Or maybe it's not so unfortunate after all?
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 8
Kudos: 138





	Feel my words, hear my thoughts

It was unbearable. It was agonizing. It was driving him mad and he wouldn't suffer through another single second of it. 

It was also early saturday morning, exactly one week after Sherlock had realized that he was deeply and utterly in love with his totally not gay flatmate who had moved in with him just a short time ago. All in all it was really rather inconvenient, especially after he had found out that he could no longer grasp a clear idea without the short, sandy haired man interrupting his every thought and reminding him that he existed (as if Sherlock could ever forget that) and that Sherlock had totally "fallen for him" as Molly had put it. 

Molly had also promised not to tell anyone after the consulting detective had phoned her in the middle of the night, announcing that he was terribly in love with the one and only John Watson and that he had absolutely no idea what to do about it. After Molly had made sure that he was in fact not in danger - it was rare that he phoned her instead of texting and she didn't want to risk anything - and then proceeded to make some squealing sounds that could barely be described as human, she told him to just confess his love and ask John out on a date.

Which of course was totally unhelpful and certainly _not_ what Sherlock had in mind, seeing as his flatmate was usually busy dating meaningless women and telling everyone how straight he was. Tedious.

Still, he needed to find a way to free his mind from the constant thoughts that would better fit the protagonist of one of those cheesy and - in his opinion - extremely tasteless teenie-novels than the famous detective Sherlock Holmes.

Irritated he threw himself onto the sofa and sulked. He was startled about an hour later when John came down the stairs in his red dressing gown and went straight into the bathroom. Sherlock could hear him as he turned on the shower and as he turned it off exactly 7,34 minutes later, suggesting that John didn't get much sleep that night for he normally showered a lot faster, except when he needed some extra comfort and time to become completely awake. 

The ex-army doctor then went into his room once again before he came back down - fully dressed - and made his way into the kitchen where he turned on the kettle.

A few minutes later a steaming cup of tea was placed down on the sofa table in front of Sherlock, who decided to simply ignore it. He still had to find a solution for his problem and the presence of John did little to help him stop thinking about him. Instead, he found himself thinking about him even more, analyzing every detail and trying to ignore the strange pull in his heart when he realized that John had made him tea because he was _John_ and he made him tea all the time because he _cared_ and he was so comforting and soft and _perfect_ – and that didn't help right now, did it?

A while later he heard him rummaging around in the kitchen, opening the fridge and then a staggered intake of breath followed by an annoyed sigh. Sherlock supposed John had found the slaughtered pig he had put there yesterday for a very crucial case involving a serial killer, a farm, a stolen pig ... and the queen.

"I swear, if you've put that ... _thing_ ... on top of the vegetables _again_ you won't be able to help Scotland Yard with their next case, Sherlock, because you'll be the damn corpse and I'll murder you so that they'll _never_ manage to find out it was me!"

"And a good morning to you too!", Sherlock replied sarcastically, smirking before he took a sip of the tea. It had grown colder by now but he found it still drinkable. John snorted unamused and Sherlock knew he was rolling his eyes at him behind his back.

"Look, I really don't have a problem if you put things in the fridge for an experiment or whatever it is you're doing with them, as long as they're not dangerous, but you promised me to store them in their _own_ compartment and _not_ on top of the _actual_ food! Some people here need to eat in order to stay alive!"

Sherlock made a noncommittal sound and went back to sulking before he spoke up again and asked John to pass him his computer. After he had called out three times and didn't get any answer back he began to worry and got up. He found a sticky note sticking on the coffee table next to him that read:

_Congratulations! If you're reading this then you're finally back in the world of the living and found a way out of your mindpalace! You haven't moved in hours. If you need anything, please be aware that I'm going out now (I have a date with Jessica if you remember though you probably deleted it). And don't you dare sabotage one of my dates again! Don't call unless you're dying or set the flat on fire. Or both. Please note, that if you should actually set the flat on fire I'll kill you! Take-out is in the fridge. Don't wait up._

_– JW_

Sherlock groaned. _Of course_ he remembered, though now he wished that he'd deleted it. It was just another sign of how totally straight and totally not interested in him John was. He had thought that after his rather dramatic break-up with Sarah after one of their first cases together, just about two weeks ago, John would take a break from dating for at least a little while. But apparently that was not the case. 

Sherlock couldn't even understand what John saw in Jessica! If she would at least be interesting! But no, that woman was just straight up boring, dull and stupid and ... arghh!! He couldn't bear it any longer, he _needed_ to find a way out!

How was he supposed to work like this? He had to conduct some important experiments and Lestrade needed his help with a new and promising case and all he could think about was the image of a happy John, sitting across a smiling Jessica, a shining candle between them to make it more romantic because John was a hopeless romantic and that's what you do on a date and he had a _date_ , a real, actual date, and _Jessica_ was his _date_ and ... and it was all just really, really not fair.

Frustrated he got up from the couch and moved to the kitchen table, opening his laptop to search for some articles that could help him with his latest case. He wouldn't let something as stupid as sentiment cloud his mind.

Two hours later John still hadn't returned from his surely successful date, meaning that the chances where high Sherlock wouldn't see him again tonight, and Sherlock found himself on a website about body language and various communication systems, communication without words, communication via signs and codes and gestures and suddenly the perfect idea began to form in his mind.

Morse code.

It was truly perfect! It was the ideal way to speak about his feelings without actually speaking. After a few minutes he had re-learned and remembered everything about the code that he already knew from one of his cases. It was surprisingly easy for him and surprisingly efficient.

_I_

••

_love_

•—•• ——— •••— •

_you_

—•—— ——— ••—

He started by tapping it out on his laptop first, then the table. Soon, he knew the rhythm by heart, tapping it on every surface in the flat he could find and even on himself, on the palm of his hand or his forearm.

The relief felt incredible. Yes, John still had no idea but he had found a way to talk about it without using his words. He could finally think clearly again while absentmindedly tapping the three little words he felt for his best friend everywhere he could. It was amazing.

When John came home the next day he was a little nervous to try it around him. What if John would figure it out? But no, that wouldn't happen, would it? He supposed the only way of finding it out was to try, so he cautiously tapped the first few letters on his teacup and carefully observed John, who sat in the opposite chair.

Nothing.

Reassured he felt himself relax. John had no idea. Smirking he spelled out the whole sentence. A strange feeling overflowed him when he realised that he had just confessed his love to John Watson ... and survived it. It felt like the whole world had changed though nothing happened. John didn't seem to take notice of his knocking.

Once he had started he couldn't stop anymore. He began to tap on everything within reach and whenever he wanted to. Everytime John did something that reminded him of how much he loved him, which was practically always. 

He tapped on the cup of tea when John made it for him throughout the day, he tapped on the sleeve of his coat when he helped him at crime scenes by muttering something funny or witty, informing him about medical data or simply adding what he thought. He tapped on his violin when John made a snarky remark about Mycroft, he tapped and tapped and tapped until he was sure the phrase had become second nature to him and he didn't even need to think about it anymore. It just happened.

_I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you._

Sometimes he variated the sentence to _"I need you"_ or _"you're perfect"_ and _"my John"_. He had to admit he was a bit (a lot) embarrassed by how quickly he had made a habit out of it and how lovesick he sounded. But John hadn't gotten suspicious so far and it helped him think, so why should he stop now?

One time, when John had licked his lips to swipe away some cream from their dessert at Angelo's, he had even been brave enough to tap out a quick _"I want to kiss you"_ on the table. John hadn't noticed, he was sure.

Well, even a genius like him had to be wrong from time to time because John had very much noticed. At first, he had just thought it was one of his flatmate's quirks, some non-concerning method to help him think. It didn't sound much like a melody and Sherlock didn't appear nervous when drumming so John was pretty sure it wasn't some nervous fidgeting and Sherlock was probably aware of what he was doing. But then he noticed that the tapping seemed to increase day by day and that he couldn't remember hearing it in the weeks before and the suspicion that it was some kind of secret message - a language or something more than just small taps - grew and grew. It did not help that it somehow sounded strangely familiar.

Then, about a week later, it suddenly hit him. He had just been standing under the shower, letting his thoughts wander when he remembered where exactly he knew the tapping noises from. The army, of course! He had learned it in the army! 

Now that he thought about it it was all so _obvious_ and he wondered why he didn't figure it out sooner. Somehow he began to understand now how Sherlock thought everyone else was an idiot. It was morse code, he was sure of it now. It just had to be! John had learned morse code by heart in the military and now, after he'd thought about it, he was convinced it was exactly what he had heard Sherlock tap the last few days.

But why morse code? Why would Sherlock need to tap something out in morse code? And why only recently? He told himself it was probably just some sort of experiment but he still remained curious. What was it again that Sherlock had begun knocking everywhere he went? John couldn't remember but he was sure he would hear it again soon and then he'd just had to be more attentive. 

And he was right. 

He had just put down a fresh mug of coffee and a plate of sandwiches in front of the consulting detective - honestly, he needed to eat more - when he heard it again.

Two short taps. Stop.

_I?_

John was confused. It wasn't long ago that he'd last used morse code but he still wasn't sure.

Then, all of a sudden: One short tap followed by a long one, then two short taps again. Stop. Three long taps. Stop. Finally three short taps and a long one and after a short pause another single tap.

_Ove?_

No. What was the first one again? An l? _Love_? It had to be right, but why?

The tapping resumed and with every little noise, with every small knock and tap against the wooden material of the table, it became clearer and clearer and John held his breath when he finally understood.

_Love you._

_I love you._

He gasped, pushing out his breath forcefully before he took in a new one.

He loved him. Him? Sherlock loved him?? 

He couldn't believe it, it was impossible. He couldn't even be sure he was the one Sherlock was thinking about. What if he had just met someone really important and now the person was stuck in his head? It couldn't actually be _him_ , could it? No, impossible! Why would Sherlock ever be interested in him? He was boring and broken and Sherlock was a beautiful genius, what could he want from him? And hadn't he been the one who said he wasn't interested in relationships right on their first case?

And yet, John couldn't keep himself from hoping that Sherlock had indeed referred to him. That he didn't need to hide behind those meaningless dates he went on anymore, that he could finally say what he really felt because he wasn't alone.

His racing thoughts were interrupted when Sherlock began to tap something new.

•——— ——— •••• —•

_John_

His breath stopped abruptly.

••

•–•• ——— •••— •

—•—— ——— ••—

_I love you_

Over and over again.

_I love you, John_

No! This could't be real, could it? Was it?

His sudden intake of breath together with the fact that he'd all but collapsed onto the chair across from Sherlock after hearing him make a bloody love confession in front of him must have piqued the dark haired man's interest because John suddenly found himself staring into his best friend's beautiful eyes. A love confession! _For_ him no less!

John wasn't sure how long they just sat there, staring at each other, when he slowly lifted his hand, looked Sherlock dead in the eye, and began to tap on the tabletop between them:

••

•—•• ——— •••— •

—•—— ——— ••—

— ——— ———

——••——

—•—— ——— ••—

——• •• —

_I love you too, you git_

And as he saw Sherlock's face lighting up a few minutes later he knew his life had changed forever.

"It's true, you know", he said. "Always has been, always will be."

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Thanks for reading my little fic! I know there are quite a few stories involving morse code out there but I got inspired and wanted to write one too, so I hope you enjoyed it! If so, I'd be very happy if you'd leave a kudo or comment so I know. I'm always very happy to receive feedback! 😊


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